


Mine to Fix

by HesitateDisintegrate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Brotherly Love, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HesitateDisintegrate/pseuds/HesitateDisintegrate
Summary: Castiel has just gotten his grace back, but for some reason he still isn't healing from his scuffle with Dean. His wings are a complete mess, Dean is guilty and is a complete mess, nobody talks about their feelings and its a complete mess. Basically its all just one big mess.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 180





	1. Sleepless Nights

Dean let himself drop down heavily onto the sofa before he pulled out his pocket knife and used it to crack open the beer bottle clenched maybe a little too tightly in his hand. Nobody could blame him if he allowed his stress and frustration to show, mainly because both Sam and Cas were in their rooms, sleeping and resting respectively. 

He took a long pull from the beer, trying to sort through his racing thoughts and come up with some good explanation as to why the resident angel wasn’t healing on his own. 

Dean scrubbed a hand roughly across his face as if he could push away any distractions and focus. He clamped down a firm mental lid on his roiling emotions. If he hadn’t yet paused to think about what that swoop in his gut when he was around Cas meant, now was definitely not the time. Definitely not when Cas was clearly in so much pain, and that pain was all Dean’s fault. 

During the day, they could all deny it was worrying that Cas hadn’t healed yet, but in the quiet stillness of the night, the guilt and a horrible sinking feeling washed over Dean. 

Cas had told him repeatedly that he was fine..that he was getting better, but Dean could see right through the facade. It was clear in the way Cas sat down at every opportunity, clear in the light sheen of sweat that appeared whenever he had to walk, clear in the tightness around his eyes and the clench of his jaw. Cas was nowhere near alright, and had definitely not improved. 

Dean took another angry pull from the beer and thought hard about what he could possibly do to fix his angel. This was definitely not the first sleepless night spent trying to figure out what was wrong. He had pored over every book in the bunker library that even mentioned angels, but despite a weak theory on missing grace causing angel sickness, he came up with nothing. Besides, Cas had just gotten his grace back..there was no reason for it to be the issue. 

Dean drained the rest of his beer and debated getting another one and thinking some more, or just going to bed. He would have liked to know he could still be productive, and would find something useful, but it was already 4 in the morning and this nights search had so far yielded nothing useful. He resolved to continue searching tomorrow, and get some sleep tonight.

With a barely suppressed groan, he lifted himself from the sofa and half walked half hobbled into the kitchen to drop his empty bottle into the sink. It served him right that he was in pain. Dean knew if he asked, Cas would heal him without hesitation, but somehow the thought of letting the angel heal his wounds while Dean was unable to do anything about the damage he had done to the angel sat like a rock in his stomach. 

No, he would allow his bruises, his stitched cuts, and his cracked rib to heal in their own damn time, and he would remember the pain next time he lifted a hand to hurt the angel. 

It took a while to navigate towards his bedroom in the dark, but once he did he laid down carefully over his made bed, not caring that he was still fully clothed. 

If he passed by Cas’s room on his way to his own and heard the pained breathing pattern the angel slipped into when he thought nobody could hear, then he didn’t say a thing.


	2. Breakfast With the Boys

Dean woke feeling like he had been battling leviathans all night instead of sleeping. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to shake off the half conscious fog before roughly swinging out of the bed and to the closet. He pulled out a pair of clean jeans, and the next clean flannel and t-shirt in the pile, then stumbled into the bathroom closest to his room for a hot shower. Ten minutes later, he stepped into the hallway freshly shaved, more awake, and less drunk than he would like to be. 

Dean followed a strange scent to the kitchen, and found Sam stirring a pot on the stove and Cas slicing strawberries while sitting at the table.

“Morning Dean” Sam said cautiously, jerking his head towards the half full coffee pot. Years of experience had conditioned him to not to let too much of the morning pass without caffeinating Dean properly. 

Dean grunted in response and poured most of the remaining coffee into the largest mug they had. 

“How you doing Cas?” Dean asked as he leaned against the counter and peered into the pot on the stove. It contained something that looked suspiciously like oatmeal. 

“I am doing better Dean, thank you for asking. Sam thinks I will improve significantly if I ingest something healthy.”

Dean brought the mug up to his lips and quirked an eyebrow up at Sam.

“What? Just because angels don’t usually eat doesn’t mean they can’t. Besides, if it might help then why not try it?” Sam asked defensively, knocking the spoon he was stirring with against the edge of the pot a few times before placing it in the sink and setting the pot on a spare cutting board on the table.

Dean couldn’t deny that the idea was worth a shot, especially when his eyes landed on Cas, who had finished slicing the strawberries. He had an arm pressed tight to his abdomen as if he was bleeding out, and was still somehow trying to look casual about it. 

“Do the rest of us have to eat the rabbit food too?” Dean asked, half joking and half longing for some properly fried bacon.

Sam just shot him a look and turned around to grab three bowls and cutlery before scooping the oatmeal into the bowls and adding some strawberries on top.

Cas and Dean glanced at one another skeptically, but once Cas took a bite and didn’t immediately keel over dead, Dean decided the oatmeal must not be that bad and took a giant brave bite

“Dude!” Sam half yelled half laughed out as Dean exhaled all his breath in one go and reached for a random half finished bottle of flat beer that was left on the table. 

“Its hot! You literally just watched me take it off the stove”

“Cas ate it!”

“Cas is an angel Dean, I seriously doubt hot oatmeal could burn him.”

Dean shot a completely betrayed look at Cas, who had indeed finished most of his bowl and was now looking back at Dean almost as if he was going to smile.

Dean let out a huff and pushed the torturously hot bowl away.  
“Have you found any good cases Sammy?”

Sam swallowed and shook his head. “We literally just got back yesterday Dean, you’re totally beat up.

“I’m fine.” Dean answered more sternly than was probably necessary, effectively avoiding another conversation with Sam about how he should just let Cas heal him. 

“So nothing on our radar?”

“No not from what I can tell.”

“Good” Dean nodded and dragged his bowl closer. He would have time to surf the web and hopefully find out how to help Cas heal. Dean took a tentative bite of the oatmeal and was surprised to find that it actually tasted…good. Or maybe he had burned off enough taste buds that his tongue was confused now. 

“I’m going to get some groceries and medical supplies today.” Sam informed the boys as he gathered his and Cas’s bowls to the sink and placed them down. “Do either of you need anything specific?”

“Pie” Dean said immediately.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh but he was smiling, which ruined his annoyed act. 

“Cas you need anything?”

“No. I have everything I need here already. Thank you.” He replied in a controlled voice. 

Dean looked at him long and hard, trying to read him. The angel kept his gaze fixed on his hands and his jaw set tight. 

“Yeah actually Sammy, why don’t you get him a pair of sweats and some t-shirts. Or some real pyjamas. Nobody should have to wear a suit and tie when they’re that banged up.”

“Dean I told you, I am fine.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “It’s fine Cas. Dean is right. You should have something to change into so you don’t wear that trench coat all the time.”

“I like this trench coat” Cas answered almost indignantly. 

“Yeah I like it too buddy but just trust me on this. Cotton is way more comfortable” Dean replied. He got up, knees making an exaggerated popping noise, took his bowl and the empty pot to the sink, and soaped up a sponge to begin washing them. 

“Well, I’m going to head out then. Call me if you need me” Sam said, giving Dean a pointed look.

“Yeah yeah we will” Dean rolled his eyes, waving Sam out with a soapy spoon.


	3. Too Much Back and Forth

Once the door to the bunker clicked shut, the atmosphere changed. What before was an easy morning camaraderie became a somewhat charged air with too many unspoken questions. 

Dean washed the last bowl and dried his hands on a towel, then tossed it onto his shoulder and turned, leaning against the counter to study Cas.

Not to his surprise, Cas was already watching Dean, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“How are you really doing Cas?” 

“I told you Dean, I’m fi-“

“Nuh uh don’t you dare say you’re fine. You’re sitting there looking all constipated trying to hide your pain but dude, you suck at acting.”

Cas fixed Dean with a hard stare. “Dean what would you have me do? There is nothing to be done about this. I am healing, you have to trust me on that.”

“No Cas, I don’t believe you. Its been weeks man. Its eating away at me and I hate that I’m the one that did this to you but there has to be something that can fix you.”

Cas scrunched his eyebrows together in the mild expression of surprise of someone who didn’t quite know how human faces were supposed to move. “Dean this is not your fault. Or your responsibility. Please stop trying to find something to fix me. I will be okay, I just need time.”

Dean might have believed him if his voice hadn’t trailed off at the end and if Cas hadn’t shifted in his chair like he had metal shards in his back. With a gentle sigh, Dean pulled a chair close to Cas and sat in it before he realized he was way in Cas’s space. 

Dean cleared his throat and began talking before he could do anything else embarrassing. “Cas, you’re great at a lot of things, but lying isn’t one of them. I’m serious. Sam and I want to help. I’ve been up doing research man, research. Thats how much I want to find something to help fix what I messed up. I have no idea how I hurt you so bad but I did do it, and you can’t tell me its not my responsibility to fix you.”

Somehow, Dean’s words seemed to have the opposite effect on Cas than he intended, because Cas looked significantly more distressed. 

“Dean I can’t ask you to — you just can’t understand —“

“Can’t understand what Cas? Do you know how to fix this?”

Castiel didn’t answer, he just looked down at his hands again.

“Cas..” Dean drawled, a slight warning in his tone.

“Yes Dean, I know how to fix this.”

“Well why the actual heck didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because Dean..” 

If Dean hadn’t been looking so intently at the angel’s face, he definitely would have missed the slight blush that swept across his cheeks. 

“Because…?”

“Because it is a very intimate thing that is required and you just don’t ask a human for something like that!” Cas breathed out in a rush. 

Dean wasn’t sure whether to be offended at the sleight against humans, or to tease Cas about whatever intimate thing he needed. He took a breathe and for once, thought about what he was going to say before he said it. After a heavy pause, Cas looked up at him with wide unsure eyes. 

“Cas, I was serious when I said I wanted to help you. What do you need me to do?”

Cas held Dean’s gaze for a long moment before his resolve broke. He reached out, and to Dean’s surprise, he placed a hand on his shoulder, right where the scar of a handprint was.

“When I…knit you back together in Hell, I used my grace to do it” Cas began. “Small healings, a severed limb or a cancer, those are simple. You were torn up so far that your individual atoms flew apart.”

Dean waited patiently for him to continue, trying hard to focus on his friends words as the warmth from the hand on his shoulder seeped through his flannel. 

“It took a significant amount of grace. The mark of that grace is still there.” Cas squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “In comparison with the rest of my grace, it is an insignificant amount, comparable to a drop in the Pacific. But it seems that in this case, it is making a difference.

“Okay so just take it back.”

“It’s not that simple. I can never take back my grace from you because it is what is holding you together. You are no longer broken, but you would not be whole without it. You could not exist without it.”

“So you’re telling me its either me or you? You take me apart to get your bit of grace back or you die slowly and painfully?” 

Dean wasn’t sure how he felt. 

Everything all at once. 

He wanted to live, of course he did, but he had done this to the angel, his closest friend. If he had caused this then he must also fix it.

“Not quite Dean..there is another way.”

“A third option where neither of us die? Perfect, lay it on me.” Dean clapped his hands together once, looking at Cas expectantly. Cas shifted uncomfortably.

“You would need to — to touch —“ Cas trailed off and looked down, twisting his fingers together. 

“Come on Cas, what do I need to touch? Do I have to hold your hand? Braid your hair? What is it?” Dean asked, trying to make some sort of joke to lighten the angel’s anguished mood.

“Dean you would need to touch my wings.” Castiel looked up at Dean, eyes full of shame. He looked like he was waiting to be laughed at or dismissed. As if he had just asked the most disgusting and inconceivable thing.

“You need me to touch your wings” Dean said in disbelief. Petting though some feathers instead of being destroyed to the atomic level? He almost laughed at how easy it was. 

“In theory yes. They are a reflection of my true form. It would speed my healing process to be in direct contact with the grace remnant.”

“Okay so lets get to it.”

Cas let out a strangled noise of frustration and shifted in the seat again.

‘Dean you don’t understand. Touching an angel’s wings is not something to be taken lightly, its a very intimate thing, done by only those closest to the angel.” Cas’s face was uncharacteristically expressive. He looked torn between a desperation to get Dean to understand, and a deep desire to evaporate out of the room. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he probably would have snapped out of there a long time ago. 

“Cas after all we’ve been through together I’d say we’re as close as two people can get.”

“I do not want to pressure you into this Dean.”

“You’re being ridiculous Cas. I want to help you. Whip ‘em out.” 

Something flashed over Cas’ face so quick Dean couldn’t read it, but after a few seconds of silence it was clear the angel was having some sort of heated internal debate. 

After a long minute, Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean’s in a stare that might have been unnerving to anyone who wasn’t this comfortable around the angel.

“I can’t Dean. Perhaps this may have been acceptable years ago, when my wings were not a mangled mess, but as it stands, they are very damaged. It would be more work than just laying your hands over them if I brought them into this dimension. Even if they were somewhat presentable-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. First of all, I don’t care if it will take work. You have to know by now that I will always put in effort for you. And I don’t give a damn about how your wings look. I’m not going to let you die because you’re too sissy to show me something you think doesn’t look ‘presentable’” Dean said, making air quotes with his fingers. 

“Besides, you’ve seen me in a million and one states of ugly and torn apart. I’m not squeamish about a couple ruffled feathers.”

Cas exhaled through his nose and looked to the side, mumbling something about Dean always going in over his head. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and something must have snapped in his resolve because he seemed to deflate, defeated probably more by his pain than by Dean’s argument.

He looked around at the kitchen they were in. “Dean you may need some bandages or towels. I do not think Sam would be happy if I bled on your kitchen.”

“Shit Cas. You’re still bleeding?” Dean said, mildly annoyed. “I would be very angry with you for hiding this for so long if you weren’t as helpless as an injured pigeon right now.”

Dean stood and pulled out a first aid kid from the supply closet, checking to see how much was in there. Sam was right, they were running low on many things, but Dean hoped that the gauze and stitching equipment that was left would be enough for now. 

He walked back into the kitchen and hovered by Cas again, trying to decide what he should do next. Dean had no idea what to expect, or what was expected of him. If the wings truly were as damaged as Castiel had said, perhaps a kitchen chair would not be the most comfortable or safe place to bandage the cuts. 

“Come on Cas, lets do this in my room. You may need to lay down.”


	4. Tentative Touches

Castiel looked skeptical, but stood carefully and followed Dean to his room, then perched uncomfortably at the foot of his bed.

Dean piled the supplies on a chair near the bed, and turned the lights on, flooding the room in a soft glow. He turned to Cas expectantly.

“So what’s next? How does this work?”

Castiel cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Well this works because you will be using my grace to heal my grace and —“

“No Cas I don’t mean logistics, I mean how are you going to get your wings out?”

“Oh” Cas replied, flustered. “Yes that would be the next step. I should uh — remove my shirt and coat to avoid tearing them.”

Dean nodded and ducked into the bathroom to fill a bowl with warm water and give Cas some privacy. He returned to find the angel stuck in his coat, one arm twisted halfway out of a sleeve and a painfully annoyed look on his face.

“It appears I am trapped” Cas gritted out. If it weren’t for the blooming bruises and Cas’ shallow breathing, Dean may have found the situation funny. 

“Yeah no kidding. Can I help you?”

“Please.”

Dean set the water bowl on his nightstand and demanded his brain shut up as he helped the angel out of his coat, jacket, tie, then finally his shirt. The only thing keeping Dean from shivering and seriously questioning his sexuality as each new inch of skin was revealed was how bruised each inch of skin was. Cas moved stiffly and kept his eyes fixed on Dean. 

“You don’t have to do this Dean. I will heal on my own in time. This really isn’t —“

“Shut up Cas. I’m not going to watch you hobble around in pain if there is something I can do to fix it. Stop being so self conscious.”

Castiel held Dean’s gaze for a moment too long, then shut his eyes and was silent. Between one moment and the next, two enormous black shadows appeared in the space behind Cas. They were such a deep black colour that they seemed to suck light in instead of reflect it. 

Dean felt his jaw go slack. He had intended not to react, to make sure his friend felt accepted and safe, but it was impossible not to. The wings were folded tight against Cas’s back, but even folded they couldn’t hide their size. Each wing was easily twice as long as Dean was tall. 

Dean searched Cas’ face for some sort of permission, but for once the angel was pointedly avoiding his gaze. The hunter made a slow circle around the angel, looking but not touching. 

The feathers on the wings were sparse, and many of the remaining feathers were broken, bleeding, or twisted at awkward angles. On the right wing, there was a large expanse of bare skin where feathers were torn out. The tissue underneath was bleeding slowly and something sharp was sticking out of the wound. 

There was no denying that Cas was telling the truth when he said his wings were damaged. They were damaged beyond what even Dean could have imagined. But this was fixable. Every injury Dean could see was something he knew how to repair. Besides, once the blood and grime was washed away, they probably wouldn’t even look that bad. 

Besides his knowledge, there was a tug in his gut, he knew somehow that he was what Cas needed to heal. 

With his slow tour around the wings complete, Dean found himself once again toe to toe with the angel. 

Without being told, without really thinking what he was doing, he reached out and trailed a finger over one of the few intact feathers. An impossible warmth washed over him. 

Cas gasped in a breath of air and threw a hand onto Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean drew his hand back as if burned.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No Dean. I — Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt me? No — you didn’t Cas. That..felt amazing. God Cas, you’re gorgeous.” Dean flushed, realizing what he had just said. He turned sharply and reached for the water bowl, mostly to get out from under the heat of the sudden and penetrating gaze that was fixed on him. 

“Cas buddy is it okay if I rinse them off first? Theres a lot going on here.”

“Yes Dean. Do what you have to. I — just having your hands on me allows the grace to connect.”

Dean dipped a face towel into the warm water and wrung it out before moving back in front of Cas. 

Slowly, Dean worked his way over the right wing, wiping each feather clean with a new section of towel and inch by inch clearing away the grime. 

At some point, Cas began to sway, and Dean nudged him into a sitting position on the corner of the bed and gently coaxed his wings out until they were spread across the room and draped over the bed and onto the floor. 

He switched out towels often, and by the time he was satisfied with how clean the wings were, front and back, he had a pile of towels on his floor and absolutely no idea how much time had passed. 

Strangely, Dean’s whole body felt warm. One look at Castiel told him that the angel was also feeling some effect. His eyes had slipped closed and despite the blood tricking out of the large cut and the bruises all over his exposed torso, he looked almost…relaxed. 

“How are you doing Cas?” Dean asked as he pulled out some saline and a stitching kit, kneeling down to get closer to the gash. 

“Good” the angel answered shortly, cracking open an eye to look down at Dean. 

“I’m going to have to stitch this closed since it won’t stop bleeding.” Dean said, inspecting the gash closer and realizing there was a jagged piece of metal about the size of his palm embedded in the muscle at the top of the wound. He pried it out as gently as he could and pushed his fingers against the opening in case more blood came gushing out, but none did.

Cas gasped at the direct contact and looked at him in alarm, a distressing picture of flushed cheeks and wide blown pupils.

“Dean I think that —“ Castiel started, then trailed off, breathing hard. 

Dean slowly removed his hand from the wound. To his amazement, there was nothing underneath but smooth skin.

“Dude..” Dean sat back, halfway relieved and halfway completely freaked out. 

“Its the grace remnant. The direct contact allows proper healing.” Cas explained, lifting his wing so he could get a look at the wound. 

Dean grunted and placed his entire palm over the bottom of the gash. This time, he felt the skin slowly knitting together. 

One look at the relief on Cas’s face, and Dean was taking a second tour of the wings, stopping to touch each cut or bruise. 

When he came back around to face the angel, he grinned and wiggled his fingers. 

“Magic hands.” 

“Technically its my magic you are using but —“

“Nope. All me. I’ve got magic hands.” Dean interrupted with a wider grin. 

He stepped back to inspect his work. The wings looked much better without the dust and dried blood clinging to them, and there were no more cuts on them, but the feathers were still in disarray. At least, whatever feathers were left. Despite the grace fuelled healing, there were still patches of dark skin that were bare. 

Castiel followed Dean’s gaze, embarrassed again now that he was no longer in pain. 

“They will grow back eventually, but it takes time.”

“Castiel, you are beautiful.” Dean stated, leaving no room for debate.

“Is there anything I can do for the feathers?”

Cas looked up at him, surprised. “You have done so much already Dean. This must be incredibly draining for you. I am feeling much better already” Cas insisted. 

He made an effort and healed a couple of the bruises on his torso just to prove that he was okay now. It was a valiant effort, but left him breathing hard, pathetically. 

“Cas we started this, we’re going to finish it right” Dean said sternly, pushing Cas back to lay on the bed and crawling up beside him. He boldly spread his hands over the angel’s chest, and felt the slow warmth of the grace in him interacting with Cas. 

The dark purple blooms on the angel’s chest vanished under Dean’s hands and Cas sighed. 

“You can um — groom the feathers.”

“Like a bird” Dean asked with a smirk.

“NO. Not like a bird” Cas squinted up at Dean accusingly. 

“Just straighten them and pull out any that are broken or bent.”

“You got it boss” Dean saluted. 

Castiel slowly spread the wings out across the bed. They draped onto the floor and the tips curled against the walls. 

Dean worked quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. He stroked his fingers over the velvety warm skin that was exposed in the bare patches as he went, and soon there was a small pile of feathers on the floor beneath each wing.

When he was finished with the front, Dean tapped Cas’s hip, and the angel turned over in a surprisingly fluid motion. The wings settled back onto the bed, one of them brushing over Dean on its way down. 

The sensation of feathers, unearthly soft feathers, was enough to make Dean swallow hard. He looked down at castiel’s back, wings spread wide and so much naked skin…on his bed. Dean blushed hard, the situation finally catching up with him. What was he even doing? Of course he would be the creep to get turned on while helping his friend. 

Cas made a small whining noise beside him, and Dean cleared his throat. He started this. Cas had warned him that it was kind of an intimate thing and he had plowed ahead anyways. He’d be damned if he left the wings half groomed just because he couldn’t control his brain. 

Dean bit down on his tongue hard and moved away from Cas, starting at the outside of one wing and working in. If Cas noticed the change in technique, he chose not to comment on it. 

Once Dean finished with the first wing, he worked his way in from the second wing as well, lost in thought.

There was no doubt about it, he definitely felt something for Cas, but up until now he had just figured they had been in a lot of life or death situations together and that caused him to be overly protective. Now, with the angel spread out beneath him, looking so relaxed he could very well be asleep if angels slept, Dean realized it was something more. He wanted Cas. 

As he finished the second wing, he absently sat back on his ankles, pressed against Cas’s side, and began kneading the muscles in his shoulders, working out the knots. 

Dean thought back to all their previous encounters, every memory he had with Cas. Sure, the angel had talked about a profound bond and often invaded Dean’s space and he more often than not came when Dean called, but otherwise he gave no real indication that he might be interested in anything more than being partners on a hunt. 

Dean wasn’t even completely sure what he wanted. 

His hands stilled and he moved away, suddenly needing some space to just think. 

Cas opened his eyes and carefully leaned up on an elbow. 

Dean looked away quickly because the angel looked absolutely sinful. 

“Thank you Dean for touching my wings.”

“I — anytime Cas” Dean replied, surprised to hear how rough his voice sounded. 

Castiel sat up in the bed and with a tentative roll of his shoulders, he slipped his wings away. 

Dean was surprised to find that he immediately missed them.

“I will leave you to enjoy your evening” Cas said as he gathered his clothes and slipped quietly out of the room. 

Evening? Dean thought absently as he checked his watch. To his surprise, it was indeed nearing 6 in the afternoon.


	5. Omission Lies and Salad

Sam returned bearing several plastic bags and one paper bag. Dean hopped up from his seat at the war room table and gracelessly relieved Sam of the paper bag.  
“You’re like a bloodhound Dean, you can smell grease from a mile away” Sam said with a fond chuckle. He deposited the bags on the kitchen counter and started putting away his haul as Dean dug for a burger. 

“What can I say man, I’m really hoping to die of heart disease.” Dean answered sarcastically.

“That seems unlikely since I clear out your blood vessels every time I heal you” said a voice from the doorway. 

Sam looked up from the open fridge where he was putting away some zucchini. 

“Cas! You look so much better man, what happened? Did Dean play nurse while I was gone?” Sam asked teasingly

“Yes actually he —“

“Hey! Woah Cas lets not spill all our bedroom details.” Dean interrupted. Sam shot him a teasing look and Dean glared back. There was no way he would live it down if Sam found out he had been hovering over Cas, massaging his naked upper body as he laid down on his bed. 

Sam finished putting away the groceries and ducked out to deposit the medical supplies in the cabinet before coming back to the table and setting three chilled beers on it. He pulled a very complex looking salad out of the bag Dean had abandoned. 

“Cas I got you a burger and a salad. I wasn’t sure what you would want. Or if you’d want to eat. Did eating this morning help at all?” Sam asked curiously.

“I uh —“ Cas faltered. He looked at Dean pleadingly, as if unsure of what to blame his miraculous progress on. Dean shot him a pointed look. 

“Yes Sam, I believe eating did help.” He lied, reaching into the bag and pulling out a second salad. He picked at it slowly, tasting it but not really eating. 

Dean polished off the second burger and tossed all his garbage into the trash under the sink. 

“Anyone up for some TV time? I’d like to know what happens to our friend Jon Snow next.” Dean grinned, pulling three more beers out of the fridge and walking them ceremoniously into the living room. 

By the time the boys joined him, the next episode was set up and the beers were opened. Dean sat on the sofa with a couple loud joint cracks, ignoring the pain in his ribs. Cas sat beside him with a frown, looking like he was going to offer to heal Dean again before he was shot yet another glare. Sam hit play and dragged a blanket onto the floor before sprawling over it.

Three episodes later, Sam was snoring lightly from the floor. 

Dean was exhausted, and desperately wanted to lie down, but that meant either moving to bed, or lying down over Cas, the former being an extremely unfavourable option, and the latter…

Cas must have sensed Dean swaying, because he curled a hand around the back of Dean’s neck and gently tugged him down until his head was resting on the angel’s thigh. 

If Dean had been less sleep deprived, or even less buzzed, he may have jerked away and convinced himself that Cas must not have pulled him down on purpose. As it was, he just didn’t care enough to analyze the movement. Cas was warm and soft and dammit just way too comfortable. 

Dean lifted a hand and dropped it over the angel’s knee before slipping into a dreamland of black feathers and tanned skin.


	6. In the Dark of the Night

When Dean awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was incredibly comfortable, and there was someone running their fingers through his hair. The second thing he noticed was that Sam was no longer on the floor, and a blanket was somehow draped over him. 

Dean shifted and to his surprise, the blanket shifted too. Dean jerked to his feet, ready for a fight before he realized that Cas’s wing had been draped over him. 

Cas snapped the wings out of sight and looked up at him from his slump on the sofa with a guilty look on his face.

“You were shivering and I didn’t want to wake you by getting up…” He said sheepishly

“S’fine” Dean mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face as the adrenaline came crashing down. He looked down at the angel, unsure if he wanted to crawl back against him, or go to his own bed. 

Cas must have noticed his indecision because he opened his arms in invitation. 

Dean dropped back down without a second thought, and instantly regretted it when the pain in his ribs squeezed all the air out of his lungs. 

“Dean.” Cas sighed, exasperated. “Why won’t you let me heal you?”

“I messed you up Cas. I can’t hurt you and let you fix me. How twisted would that be?” Dean mumbled.

“Dean, you helped me to heal more today than I have on my own in the last several weeks. I think that counts as…whatever the opposite of messing me up is. Let me heal you.” 

Dean paused, perhaps debating, or perhaps he had fallen asleep again. 

“No Cas,” he finally breathed out quietly. “Whether it was me that tore your wings apart that bad or not, I can’t take the easy way out, especially not if you’re still hurting.”

“Dean I am in significantly less pain. The feathers will grow back eventually.”

Dean let out a shallow sign and pushed himself up off the angel, suddenly bashful.

“Can I see them again?”

“You want to see my wings again? Why.” Cas asked, suspicious of the direct topic change.

“Please Cas? I just…I really liked touching them.” Dean admitted. 

Maybe it was the vulnerability of the night, or maybe it was the raw and honest tone of Dean’s voice, but Cas allowed his wings to slip back into existence, one hovering over Dean and the other extending along the length of the sofa beside Cas. 

In the weak lamplight, the wings looked more perfect; no raw skin could be seen, just a mass of inky blackness. Dean shifted so he could touch the wing over him. 

His fingers brushed through some curiously small feathers and he dug his fingers in deeper, feeling their sharp hard tips.

“Cas what is that?”

Cas reached a hand up and touched the same spot Dean was touching, their fingers brushing together. “It appears that new feathers are already growing in.” Cas replied, frowning slightly.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes of course, but I do not understand why it is happening so quickly. These feathers should have taken weeks to start growing back.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe it was my epic massaging skills from earlier.” He grinned in the dark, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Would it help if I touched your wings more?”

Cas turned his head to look curiously at Dean, unsure of what to make of the hopeful tone in his voice. He nodded his permission and shifted, sliding to the floor in front of Dean, giving him full access to the backs of his wings. 

Dean immediately rested his hands on the wing joints, feeling their strength and fully appreciating it now that he didn’t have any cuts to worry about. He kneaded his fingers into the tense muscles and through the soft feathers, feeling that familiar warmth from earlier coursing through him. 

He couldn’t see Cas’s expression, but he trusted Cas would tell him if he was hurting him or doing something wrong. As his hands massaged and fell into their own rhythm, his mind wandered to his private thinking session from earlier that evening. 

He had come to the conclusion that he had some sort of feelings for Cas, and if Cas ever made a move on him, he would be completely open to exploring those feelings. The attraction to a man probably could have been startling, since he had never felt this way about a dude, but he found that he just didn’t really care. 

This was different than his usual fling. This was slow and thought out, and if Dean really let his mind wander, he would probably admit that he had felt like Castiel was more than a friend for a long while. 

His hands had aimlessly drifted towards the base of Cas’s wings and were massaging slowly and gently when they suddenly came away wet and Cas let out a startled gasp. 

Dean touched the spot again to try and see if he had somehow made Cas bleed, and Cas roughly wrenched away when Dean’s hand made contact. 

He looked back at Dean with an expression that was somehow both horrified and…if Dean didn’t know any better…he might say aroused. 

“I am so sorry.” Cas managed to choke out before he snapped out of the room. 

Dean was left suddenly alone, fingers coated with..something, and thoroughly confused. 

He slowly lifted his hand to inspect the liquid, which couldn’t be blood because it was completely clear. With a start he realized it smelled impossibly sweet, a heady sort of scent that was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. 

With a deep blush, Dean stood abruptly from the sofa and stared at his hands in the lamplight, suddenly feeling like he had violated Cas and done something horribly wrong. Why else would Cas have left so abruptly?

He groaned angrily to himself. Cas would probably avoid him for forever now. He walked stiffly to the bathroom and washed his hands roughly, then headed for his room where he shut the door much too loudly for a door shutting in the small hours of morning. 

There was no way for Dean to have noticed a pair of curious and confused blue eyes watching him from the dark hallway where they had disappeared to. There was no way for him to know that a knot of tension released from a particular angel’s chest when he saw the human somehow…not repulsed. There was no way for him to know about the flutter of hope the angel felt.


	7. Brotherly Advice

The next morning passed exactly how Dean had predicted it would. Castiel did not come out of his room - if he even was in his room, and Dean didn’t try to talk to him because he didn’t know what he would say. “I’m sorry I basically molested you and made you feel so hella uncomfortable that you had to leave?” 

The whole situation made him angry and frustrated, and Sam wisely avoided his dark mood by hiding in the bunker library. 

By late afternoon, Dean was going out of his mind with indecision. He had no idea how to make the situation better, but the thought of losing his angel to something so careless made his heart twist in a weird way. 

In the end, he raided the fridge for some vegetables, and methodically chopped the ingredients to make his famous kitchen sink soup. 

He brought the soup to a final boil, and the aroma of seasoned vegetables must have drawn Sam out of the library because he poked his shaggy head through the kitchen door. 

“Need any help?” Sam asked, already reaching for the same bowls and spoons that were still on the drying rack from yesterdays breakfast. 

“Just two Sam, Cas probably won’t come.” Dean said, defeated. 

“Is everything alright between you two?” Sam asked, sitting backwards on a chair to look at Dean.

Dean fixed him with a long look, debating whether or not to tell him what happened. He was unsure what happened himself. With a sigh, he decided maybe he could use another brain to help him get out of this potential mess. 

Dean ladled soup into two bowls as he spoke. “So apparently when Cas raised me from hell, he had to leave a trace of grace behind to keep me together. He wasn’t healing after I messed him up because he needed that last piece of grace. Apparently if I touch his wounds its enough contact to reconnect the grace or something, and some hyper speed healing happened while you were gone yesterday.”

Sam nodded slowly, still not seeing a problem.

“Last night I asked to see his wings again and I was touching them and this wet stuff came out and Cas freaked and poofed away and now he’s avoiding me and I have no idea what I did but Sam, I think I molested the guy.” Dean finished in an anguished rush.

Sam looked at him with his jaw hanging open.

“Dude please say something, you’re making me feel like I should turn myself in.”

“No Dean sorry, its just. You saw Cas’s wings?”

“Yeah, why, is that weird?”

“He let you touch his wings?” Sam answered with another question.

“Yes. I literally just said that. Is that some taboo thing or something?” 

“Um Dean, only a mate or a sibling is normally allowed to touch an angel’s wings. I read it in a book somewhere, its a very intimate thing. Siblings groom each other’s wings in heaven but to touch an angel’s wings here on earth…you guys basically had angel sex.” Sam finished, looking like he might laugh.

Dean dropped his spoon into his bowl.

Angel sex? But Cas would never want that with him. 

Of course he didn’t want it dumbass, he needed to heal. Thats why he ran away when you touched him again last night.

Dean felt a strange hurt bloom in his chest. He knew Cas had only allowed the contact in order to heal, but it didn’t stop Dean from wishing it had meant more.

“Well you’ve gotten this one mixed up Sammy. Cas needed contact with the grace remnant so he could heal. It didn’t mean anything more than that to him.” 

Sam’s eyebrow shot up at the to him, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“Dean just, talk to him about it. Whatever happened last night will only get more awkward if you avoid each other.” 

Sam ladled some soup into a third bowl and gathered up his and Dean’s empty bowls, giving Dean a pointed look. 

“Alright mom, I’ll go talk to him” Dean mocked as he picked up the full bowl and a spoon and made his way to Cas’s room, half hoping he wouldn’t be there.


	8. Unspoken Confessions

Dean knocked on the door using his foot, and was surprised when the door swung open from the contact. 

Cas was sitting on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. His back was to the door, wings splayed out and twisted awkwardly in front of him. He appeared to be combing through them while also trying to somehow itch the back, not quite reaching. 

Dean froze in the doorway as a familiar thick sweet scent hit him. Then he looked more closely at the angel and almost gasped at the sight of the wings. The feathers had grown back perfectly, and were strong and straight. He cleared his throat awkwardly, 

“I brought you some soup. Made it myself.”

Cas turned, wings fluffing larger in defence before he realized the human was not a threat. 

“Thank you Dean, that is very thoughtful of you.” 

“I uh — I’ll just leave it here.” Dean set the bowl on the nightstand by the bed and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Cas said hurriedly

“Yeah?”

“You um — Can you..stay? I need help.” He admitted, reaching back again and trying uselessly to scratch through the feathers. 

Dean looked around the room, unsure of where it was safe for his eyes to land, but if his angel needed help then he was there. Dean stepped closer to the angel, trying to keep his thoughts clear through the deliriously good fog that the scent caused. What was that?

“What’s going on Cas?”

“The feathers have grown in extremely quickly. I believe that can be attributed to our…contact again last night. Thank you.” 

Cas blushed and the simple action set Dean’s mind racing. Thank you? He thought he had done something wrong yesterday, crossed a line. 

“I am very sorry to have to ask you this, I am aware that a human may find this unappealing, but I need help oiling my feathers. They are very dry and itchy and I cannot reach behind me.” 

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He thought he would never be allowed to touch the wings again after whatever happened last night. He never imagined he would be asked to touch them again. 

“Cas I’d be more than happy to help but I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. I’m still not even sure what happened last night but whatever I did I am very sorry it made you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomf— Dean. You touched my oil glands, which cannot have been a pleasant thing for you. I left because I did not wish for you to see me in that…state. I have been trying all day to do this on my own, but I can’t. I hate to have to ask you to do something you probably find repulsive but I don’t know how else to do this.” 

As if to prove his point, Cas reached behind himself to try and comb through the backs of his wings. His fingers scrabbled around pathetically, barely coming in contact with the dry new feathers. 

“Repulsive? Uh Cas…whatever that oil stuff is, its pretty darn far from repulsive.”

Cas’s face softened slightly, an expression which may have been relief if he allowed it to show properly. 

Dean cleared his throat and kneeled on the bed behind the angel.

“So. How do I do this?”

“Just, take some oil from this area” Cas reached back and took Dean’s hand, guiding it to the base of a wing joint. “Spread it through the feathers if you can.”

Dean let his fingers sink into the small oiled feathers near Cas’s back, and Cas inhaled sharply, moving his hands to clasp together tightly and curling forward.

“Everything okay Cas?” Dean asked as his hand stilled.

“Yes. Sorry. That is…not what it felt like when I used them. it is a very different feeling.” Cas breathed out.

“Good different or bad different?” Dean asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hurting the angel.

Cas paused for a moment before answering. “Good different.” 

Dean pushed his fingers back under the wing, digging through the feathers and finding a small bump that was slowly leaking oil. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to control his breathing as he began oiling the feathers starting from where Cas could no longer reach.

As he massaged his slick fingers over each feather individually, it lost its complete inky blackness and developed an almost blue sheen to it. It was mesmerizing watching the wings come to life under his hands. 

Cas shuddered as Dean’s hand pressed once more onto the small gland. 

“Relax angel. I’ve got you.” Dean said in a voice that came out lower than he expected.

Cas turned his head to look back at him, pupils blown wide.

Dean smirked. Cas looked ruined. 

“Enjoying this are you?” Dean teased, because teasing was the only thing he could do to distract himself from his pounding heart. And from the smell. He wondered briefly if all angels smelled like this. If all of heaven smelled like this. 

Cas huffed out an annoyed breath, or what would have been an annoyed breath if he was still in full control over. He made a pointed effort to keep completely still and not react again. 

Dean took his time, partly because he wanted to do a good job, but mostly because he didn’t want to stop touching the angel. Maybe it was the wings, maybe it was the heady scent of the oil, or maybe it was the muscled and very bare back he was working over, but Dean didn’t want any of it to end. 

With the wings fully healed and with Cas looking pretty much back to normal, there would likely not be another reason for Dean to touch Cas like this again. 

The thought filled him with a heaviness, and caused him to continue combing and shifting his fingers through the wings long after they were all gleaming and perfectly straight. 

Dean was pulled back from his thoughts when Cas flexed his wings, muscles rippling under the feathers. He pulled the gleaming black twin masses tight against his back and shifted on the bed to face the hunter. 

“Thank you Dean” Cas rasped, barely louder than a whisper. 

“Anytime Cas” Dean answered automatically, ignoring the pang in his gut that may have been from his cracked ribs but was more likely the cause of knowing he may never see those wings again. There was no reason for it anymore. 

Cas must have noticed a shift in his expression because he reached out, hand freezing outstretched in the space between them. 

“Let me heal you” Cas said, clearly and quietly. The words were a clear demand, but they were spoken too softly, with too much hidden meaning to be taken as anything but a raw desire to fix Dean in the same ways Dean had fixed him. 

Dean nodded once, and fixed his eyes on Cas’ deep blue ones.

Cas closed the distance between them, cupping Dean’s face in his large warm hand, completely abandoning his usual touch to the forehead approach for something that felt fittingly intimate now. 

Dean felt a sweep of power run through his body; bones knitted themselves back together, bruises were wiped away, and even his muscles relaxed, leaving him feeling loose and warm. 

He didn’t think, didn’t stop to question himself and mess it all up. He just leaned smoothly forward and caught Cas’ lips with his own.

Cas remained frozen for a second as his mind caught up to reality, but then he was kissing back, weaving his fingers into Dean’s hair with one hand and catching his hip with the other, tugging him into his lap with inhuman strength. 

The kiss melted into another kiss, then another, and then another until neither the angel nor the hunter had any breath left. 

They pulled apart just far enough to see one another, to catch any indication that this should stop. All they saw was reddened swollen lips and hair tousled beyond excuse and eyes that held too many unspoken words, but none of those words were no. 

The pause lasted for a few charged seconds before Cas leaned forward, dropping Dean unceremoniously onto his back on the bed and following him down to press his weight into him. 

The sheer strength of the angel might have terrified anyone else, but Dean immediately buried his fingers in whatever feathers he could reach and captured Cas’ lips with his own again, tugging him closer. 

Later, they would probably have to discuss what happened and figure out why. They would have to dissect what they were to each other afterwards and rewrite the boundaries. They would do all this, but later. For now, Dean wouldn’t budge for all the pie in the world. With the weight of an angel and his wings pressing down on him, he had never felt more safe. There were things to be done, but later.


End file.
